As The Night Closes In
by screaming-poetically
Summary: In the Golden Hall of Meduseld, Man and Elf shall meet. And in so doing, they will fall in love.


Title: As The Night Closes In  
Summary: In the Golden Hall of Meduseld, Man and Elf shall meet. And in so doing, they shall fall in love.  
Disclaimer: Any and all characters and places mentioned belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. The actors that portray the characters belong to themselves. (Regretfully, though, I'd rather like to have Haldir to myself…)

**As The Night Closes In**

The night was cool. Sounds of celebration rose from within the Golden Hall. Scant clouds moved across the dark sky, and few people were about. However, a lone figure stood a few paces beyond the doorway. This figure seemed almost part of the landscape unless you knew you were looking for him. Such a solitary figure was he, the Elf called Legolas Greenleaf.

Legolas had long departed from the celebration of the victory at Helm's Deep. The Men of Rohan were hailing their victorious dead, and all in all, everything was as it should be. Gandalf had returned; still wise and full of sometimes unwanted advice, but changed. Éomer had come at the last moment of the battle to save them all; that Legolas knew he would never forget.

Éomer. That Man infuriated Legolas. He was truly a definition of the House of Eorl; strong, brave-hearted, loyal, and skilled in battle. But the Elf couldn't help but feel that Éomer was holding something back. He was loyal to the King Théoden, and protective of his sister, Éowyn. But he was severely distrustful. Not a lacking trait in these dark days, to be sure. Verily, Legolas noticed a shadow on him; not of Evil, or the sadness that tainted the White Lady, but rather a loneliness.

He sighed. Loneliness was something he knew well. It had been long since he had returned to his homeland realm of Mirkwood, and not wanted was he. He knew the pain of being sundered from family, and the separation that comes from being both Elf and Prince. That's why Legolas strived so hard to be excellent. He was only the best archer because he had nothing else to do. No home to go to. No one's arms to rest in at night.

The sound of a door closing caught Legolas in the middle of his reverie. It was neither Aragorn nor Gandalf; he knew that Gimli was still caught up in a drinking game with several Riders. But nevertheless, it was a familiar presence, almost as if he had been around this Man for all of his life. A hand rested on his shoulder, and Legolas turned to see the owner.

He drew in a breath.

"Éomer," he said quietly.

The Man of Rohan nodded. He was out of armor, and carried a solemn look about him. He had not drunk any alcohol while Legolas was in the Hall, and he carried none now. But Éomer's eyes carried an intoxicated look. What had made the Man this way?

"Long have you been missing from our celebration, Legolas. I looked to see if I could find you, and lo! Here you are."

Legolas did not answer, but only looked at Éomer. The gaze was disconcerting to the Man; such eyes he had never seen before. It almost felt as if those eyes could see into the depths of his very soul, and tell of his desires. Éomer hoped that wasn't true, and he also hoped that his eyes would not betray him. Odd, that such a Man who did not believe in hope or trust in Rohan, was feeling so much of both.

"Why do you seek solitude, Legolas?"

The question caught the Elf off-guard, and he looked away. He did not want this Man's pity.

"I seek solitude because it is all that is sure in this world. I know I shall be alone unto the ending of the Earth; and I also know that were I to love someone, those feelings could not be returned."

Legolas still could not look at Éomer. What had possessed him to say such things? It wasn't that he didn't feel that way, because he did; he just never intended for Éomer to know he felt that way. Until the past few days, the Elf hadn't intended much for Éomer at all. But now…

"Look at me, Legolas," said Éomer softly.

Legolas made no sign that he had even heard Éomer, and he did not look at him. The Man took Legolas' chin with his hand and brought the Elf's head up slowly.

"You are not alone in being alone, my friend," said the Man. "Long have I felt desires that I could not take action on, or even acknowledge. But also, you must understand that loneliness is not a sure thing in this world. It can be taken away."

Legolas scanned Éomer's face, to see if what he said were merely words of comfort, and not meaning anything at all.

"What desires have you hidden," asked Legolas.

Éomer dropped his hand from Legolas' face, but not before trailing his fingertips lightly on the Elf's skin.

"So much in this world," began Éomer, "is unsure. Everything must come to an end. Long have I desired for one who could make time pass easily. For one whom I could love above all else. And so I have found that one, to whom I would willingly give over myself. Alas! That sorrow from joy is oft evolved. For he cannot desire me, Legolas. It is impossible."

Keen eyes still studied Éomer, and the Man suddenly felt himself being drawn into the shadows by a soft hand. It was Legolas' hand that was leading him, Éomer realized. But whither is he leading me? His thoughts were immediately interrupted by the Elf pressing him firmly against the stone wall. Soft breath came in contact with his face. They were so close Éomer could swear he was drowning in Legolas' gaze.

"Did you know," said Legolas, "that ever since I first saw you, I wanted to belong to you? You seem so sure in ways that I am not. So unknown to me, yet also like my heart has known you all my years in this Middle-earth."

Éomer took in a deep breath. Did this mean that…nay. Legolas could not possibly—

When he felt something wet and hot against his mouth it took him a moment to realize what had happened—to feel fingers running through his hair and a great wash of heat suddenly flashing over him.

The Elf was kissing Éomer. Hard, and long, and sweet.

Everything is so clear.

They pulled apart and his breathing was ragged.

"You shouldn't have done that," Éomer found himself whispering as he gazed into Legolas' glazed eyes.

"You shouldn't have let me," is all he replies.

And a second later they were a tangle of limbs in the dark corner of Meduseld, wrestling with each other as one, with an unleashed passion with no regard for the consequences.


End file.
